


In Literal Pieces, Not In The Melodramatic Sense

by Pandir



Category: Deadpool (2016)
Genre: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, mentions of skullfucking, pretty crude spure of the moment fic but welp it's deadpool, strong language of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solid concrete brings people closer like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Literal Pieces, Not In The Melodramatic Sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrokoRobin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrokoRobin/gifts).



> This movie is pure kinkspiration, where's all the fic, dammit?

The blast of the exploding grenade catches him off-guard –  _a little busy here with a dozen armed assholes, cut me some slack_ -, effectively throwing him across the hall and into the concrete wall. The force of the impact is not exactly kind to his spine nor the insides of his skull, and Wade sags down in the rubble, ears ringing and every bone in his body hurting. He can barely feel his arms, and to his dismay, he can most definitely feel his legs.

At least part of them, and they feel strange as fuck, burning like hell where the pieces of concrete poke into the torn flesh.

Wade’s vision clears to see Francis walking towards him, casually, and even though his nose is crushed and his mouth smeared with blood, he manages to look so very fucking pleased with himself, the only way he could look more self-satisfied would be if he was stroking his own cock.

“Sorry, if I don’t wait for you to patch up”, Francis says, gesturing towards the lower parts of Wade, “But frankly, I don’t have the patience.”

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of Wade to go around", Wade reassures him, as he presses himself up from the debris, very ready to lounge himself back into the fight to continue where they left off, but instead, he pretty unspectacularly falls flat on his face.

“Is there really?”, he hears Francis from above, and suddenly, the pain and numbness in what Wade has assumed to be his legs makes a whole lot of sense. The blast must have ripped his legs right off, at least up to his thighs. Wade tries waggling them, but there is not much left to waggle and he has the terrible feeling that bits of his flesh are torn off and loosely flapping off the stumps. _Ewwww._  His examinations are interrupted by Francis' heavy boot pushing down right between his shoulder blades, pressing the air out of his lungs. “Oh, and I like you like that", Francis whispers. "In pieces. I intend to keep it that way.”

Before Wade can turn his head around far enough to catch a look at the bloodied shit-eating grin, the axes come down, and with two heavy hits accompanied by sharp sudden pain, Wade's arms are cut clean off right below the shoulder joints. Groaning, Wade lets his head drop back to the ground, his whole body convulsing against the concrete floor and the boot holding him down as his nerves scream and the wounded flesh burns and itches all over. Francis releases him to kick the arms away, and Wade shoots one of the useless pieces of shit a glare as it slaps on the floor.

“Good fucking riddance, not like I need you or anything!” To prove his point, he furiously wriggles around, which results mostly in him agitatedly shaking his head and his hips. “I can move just fine!” At least he still has his ass, and that ass looks damn good, especially when he clenches it. Legs are so overrated.

In a defiant attempt to turn towards Francis, he tries to crawl by writhing his body –  _seals can slide around, and they are aquatic fat rolls, so how hard can it be?_  -, but even as he manages to lift his head and one of his shoulders a little, he immediately flops back on the ground. His shortened limbs are even more useless for flailing helplessly, not that it keeps him from attempting it.

“Very impressive. I’m scared”, Francis Fuckface lovingly mocks from above.

“Suck a gigantic cock”, Wade yells at him while he tries rolling instead now, “Everyone loves seals –  _ouch_  -”, it hurts like fire ants and needles and like  _all his limbs are severed while his cells are literally on fire trying to fix that mess_ , “-because they are really damn cute.”

He ends up on falling on his back this time.  _Progress._  His suit is damp and warm with blood, and most of it is his own. Not ideal, that, but it could be worse. Anything not red would be way worse, for example.

From his new exiting vantage point, he gets has an unhindered view of Francis’ face when he positions himself right above him, one foot on each side of the limbless torso, and looks down on Wade, trapped like a turtle on its back. It's amazing how pursing his lips like that makes him look even more like a talking pile of dicktips, Wade observes with slight fascination, before Francis puts one of his axes right under Wade’s chin its edge, cutting into the soft spot at its underside between the jaw bones. Francis uses it to yank Wade's head up to make sure he has his full attention when he leans down.

“What’s my name?”, Francis asks, and there's an edge to it that should probably be threatening, but Wade is too distracted by the bits of dust that are raining down on his forehead to really care. When he looks past Francis' head to the ceiling above, he can see some very concerning cracks in the concrete. Apparently, the explosion has rendered the entire structure rather instable. 

“Oh-oh”, Wade says, but keeps lying on his back still, mostly because he’s lacking options here, really, and Francis doesn’t get much further than raising his eyebrows with a slightly irritated “What?” before the whole thing comes crashing down on them.

 

There’s a huge hole in the ceiling now, or at least Wade assumes that. Not that he can discern much with all that debris on top of him, and Francis sandwiched between him and the large pieces of concrete.

“Guess I’m lucky to have a bag of dicks soften the blow”, Wade muses, but as his ribcage is crushed and his lungs are all but deflated completely, all he gets out is a wheezing, gargling sound.

Francis does not seem to hear him anyway, even though his head is right beside Wade’s shoulder. In fact, Wade is very sure he feels some bones poking him that have no business to be standing out like that. And that would be a great sentence for a different context. Not that this one isn't full of ripe opportunities, too. Pity he can't talk and Francis can't listen, so he has to save _Wow, looks like you're really crushing on me_ for later. Or he'll just gargle it now for his own amusement, because who's gonna stop him.

Francis doesn't react, but his chest is pressing down on Wade and moving ever so slightly, and breathing gets way less painful when Wade tries to match his rhythm.  _How intimate._  Coming to think of it, no one’s ever been all over him like this in a while, in a most literal and very bone-crushing way.

Solid concrete brings people closer like that.

And it's gonna stay like that for a few hours, with some added agonized groaning while bones start mending and oh, how Wade is looking forward to growing back _four_  of his extremities. It's bit like the opposite of hate sex - he's going to be majorly pissed after.

“Since we’re both a pile of flesh and bone pancakes now”, Wade wheezes eventually, and he almost manages discernible sounds now, though he still can barely get air into his lungs and should probably not be talking. “How about the one who heals faster wins and gets to shoot the other's face off?”

"Spoiler: That will totally be me", Wade mouths into the direction of Francis’ ear, and there’s a grin tugging on Wade’s lips as he drifts in and out of unconsciousness, "But I’m a good sport, I’ll fuck your brain hole like I mean it. Maybe even put a candle on top of your cranium. And take it out to dinner afterwards."

Francis has been right about him, of course. He really is such hopeless a romantic.


End file.
